This isn't Andy Warhol's Factory
by redisthenewblackington
Summary: During Red's extraction from The Factory, Liz finds Red shackled, and things quickly turn steamy.
1. Chapter 1

AN - This prompt was requested by my gutterbugs! Red's extraction from The Fsctory turns into an endangered smutfest. As a fair warning, this chapter has a lot of smutty teasing, but the actual sex won't occur until chapter two. I hope you guys enjoy this! As always, I love feedback, so I thank you for any and all of that.

Disclaimer : Not my anything

**Chapter One**

Upon the breaking news of Reddington's overseas capture, the war room buzzed with a panicked confusion. Blindsided, the members of the taskforce found themselves divided by their opposing theories of what had happened.

Now, after working together for just over a year, all of the "type A", protocol-abiding agents had finally become accustomed to going against their training. Red had single-handedly reprogrammed them all, one case at a time. While they were still loathe to acknowledge it, in moments like this, when they were collectively worked into such a nervous lather, one truth made itself unimpeachably clear: They all cared about what happened to Raymond Reddington.

None of them so much as Liz.

Wary and untrusting, she eyed their newcomer closely. They were finally developing a friendly rapport, but the real purpose of the new agent's presence was still a mystery, and for all Liz knew, it may have been tied to this incident. Samar seemed to know just a little too much about Red's destination, the level ten blacksite prison dubbed "The Factory."

Unwilling to waste a single second, Liz insisted that they leave immediately. Samar could tell them everything about The Factory while they were enroute. As they touched down on the prison's helipad, Liz had the presence of mind to duck down, remaining unseen by whoever was watching their descent. Preparing to exit, Ressler pulled off his protective ear muffs and shouted, "What the hell are you doing, Keen?"

"We should stagger our entries. I'll go last," she replied.

The look in her eye was one that he'd come to recognize. If he had any chance in hell of changing her mind, it would take a LOT of persuasion, and they didn't have time for that. "Fine!"

"I don't think that's necessary, Agent Keen," Navabi chimed in. "We have clearance to be here. This chopper isn't a Trojan horse."

"There's a reason I didn't ask for your opinion. Go with Ressler, then. I'm fine on my own." Liz spat.

After the other two agents climbed out, Liz took off her jacket and reached under her seat for the extra protective vest that she'd brought for Red. Being larger, it easily slipped over her own. She tugged at the nylon sidestraps until it was sufficiently snug, and though it was uncomfortably warm, she re-donned her jacket to conceal what was underneath.

From Tom, Liz had learned the circumstantial advantages of feigned ignorance. From Red, she learned when and how to use it in order to stay one step ahead.

Still hunkered down, she used a compact mirror to look around outside for the best way in, and watched as Ressler and Samar were roughly dragged inside by guards with huge guns. In spite of the perilous circumstances, Liz smirked with a momentary sense of smug satisfaction. Red would be proud.

Or so she thought.

Liz hopped out and sprinted to the door with her gun drawn. Inside, she was surrounded by a darkness that was broken only by strobing yellow emergency lights, spaced out every twenty feet or so. She felt her way along the corridor, pausing frequently with her back pressed against the wall, surveying her immediate surroundings, and straining her ears for any sounds that might lead her to Red. The further inward that she moved, the better her eyes thankfully adjusted to the darkness.

After opening several doors that should have been locked, Liz had three theories that reigned over the rest. Either Red or Braxton were in the process of staging a prison coup, or they'd teamed up to do it together. She based her every move on the assumption that the coup was being lead by Braxton. Her mission to extract Red remained unchanged.

When she arrived at the intersection of another hall, Liz peered around the corner and spied a man standing guard in front of a closed door. Could he be guarding Red? She could think of only one way to find out- by retracing her steps, doubling back towards a ventilation duct that she'd passed about twenty yards back.

Suddenly, the vests and coat seemed like an awful idea. The entry was tight, but she made it through, into the wall. Inch by inch Liz crawled, with a painstaking slowness that both tortured her impatient nature and made it nearly impossible to gauge her proximity to the guarded room. She peered through the openings into each room, cursing as one by one, she found them empty.

Suddenly, Red's voice filled the vent. Low and powerful, it echoed and reverberated all around her, the vibrations penetrating her skin as he repeated a phone number several times in a row. Christ, she never would have guessed that his voice could sound hotter than it already did. By the time Liz made it to the source, she could hardly breathe. Nothing could have prepared her for the feast laid out before her when she peeked into the room.

Red was tethered by four seperate chains, one on each limb, attached to two opposing walls of the small cell. It rendered him effectively immobilized in the center, with his arms outstretched and legs parted. A black hood had been placed over his head, but even if he hadn't spoken, she would have still known that it was him. She'd recognize that ass anywhere. She paused for several seconds, raking her eyes appreciatively up and down his body.

The realization that she wouldn't be able to climb out right there hit her square in her tightly-coiled gut. She needed the guard's keys to unlock the shackles. Unable to turn around to go back, she kept moving forward, until she reached the opening for the next room. Finding it empty, she dropped down from the ceiling and paused, listening for footsteps, or any other sign that someone may have heard her. Finding none, she employed the compact mirror once more, angling it to get a fix on the guard's location.

Shooting him would have been easy, but also too loud. Instead, she leaped out and grabbed the man's head, with one hand clamped over his mouth, and slammed it against the concrete wall. Liz dropped to her knees, unhooked the key ring from his belt, and dragged his limp form into the room, closing the door behind her.

"Desmond?" Red cheerfully called out, "Have you changed your mind? Just think of what you could do with fifty-thousand dollars. A lifetime supply of kosher hotdogs, a full year with a different prostitute every night, or perhaps more than a year, or less, depending on your standards and location. I can put you in contact with some highly-reputable madams. Just say the word."

As he spoke, Liz walked in a slow circle around him, inching closer and closer, and deriving far too much pleasure from the situation. It was wrong, so, so very wrong. No doubt Red was starting to feel a little nervous, probably suspecting that he wasn't talking to Desmond, after all.

Liz took off her jacket, along with Red's protective vest. With the nylon sidestraps undone, the front and back were only attached at the shoulders. Red flinched when she placed a hand at the nape of his neck, guiding his head through the neck hole of the vest. The closely-shorn hair felt exactly as she had imagined, and her breath hitched as her palm lingered for just a little too long.

Feeling the weight of the vest settled over his shoulders, Red grunted. Her hands grazed over his chest and sides as she threaded the straps and adjusted them, one at a time, just a little too snugly. His body heat and perspiration seemed to bring out all of the best notes in his aftershave. The combination made her head swim, and she stepped back in order to avoid accidentally falling against him.

"I assure you that rigging me with explosives won't be necessary, if you don't take the money. We'll both simply die anyway. You may not believe me now, but by the time that you do, it will be too late."

Still maintaining her silence, Liz kneeled down in front of him, reached one hand to graze the posterior side of his left calf, trailing down to the shackle around his ankle. The key ring had at least twenty keys attached to it, and she flipped through them, trying and failing to open the lock several times.

"Shouldn't you know which key to use?" Red drawled, punctuated by a patronizing chuckle. "I thought you were better at your job than this. Perhaps you should consider another one. Fifty grand would buy you more than enough time to figure it out."

Liz bit her lip to suppress a frustrated groan, and kept working until she finally found the right one.

"No. Desmond certainly is better at his job than this... Who are you?"

She gave similar treatment to his right calf and ankle, and found the second key on the third try. Tossing the shackles aside, she smoothed out the perfectly-tailored cuffs of his trousers and then grabbed onto his belt buckle, using it to pull herself up to her feet.

Red reflexively sucked a breath through his teeth. "Enough games! Say something, Luther, or whoever you are."

Liz leaned in closely to his hooded face, just shy of touching. This couldn't go on for much longer, and she knew it. Red sniffed once, twice, and then three times. She ducked beneath his arm and walked around to stand behind him, and then snaked one hand over his shoulder, grazing her fingertips up the length of his neck until she blindly found the edge of the hood.

He sniffed twice more. "Lizzie?"

She pulled it off and tossed it to the floor, but otherwise stood still. Red immediately spied Desmond on the floor, and then looked down at his chest, finding it covered by the protective vest, rather than explosives. He sniffed again.

"I know that it's you, Lizzie. I'd recognize that gardenia fragrance anywhere, and it's especially noticeable without the hood. You shouldn't have come here."

She hooked her chin over his shoulder, laid one hand on his bicep, and skimmed down the length of his arm, over the shackle on his wrist, until she reached his hand. She laced her fingers with his and held it, turning her head to the side, so that her nose was buried in the crook of his neck, where she deeply inhaled before finally saying, "Perhaps... but I haven't yet, have I?"

It took Red a few seconds to fully register what she had meant. Liz knew the instant that it clicked. His posture straightened as he trembled through the brief shiver that raced down his spine. She had him. She had him, and she knew it.

He nodded once and swallowed before finally whispering, "I could better facilitate that if I had the use of my hands."

Liz let go of the hand that she was holding and pressed her chest against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist, only to be frustrated by the vest as it prevented her from making the direct contact that she craved. As her breath swept over his neck, he tipped his head to the side, an elongated and delectable offering that she gladly accepted. "Are you sure? I would have thought that you were a little more creative than that. These chains though... you wear them so well."

Red closed his eyes and groaned when her lips made contact, kissing along the path of his carotid artery. "So... this... is what you like? If I had known, I... god, Lizzie."

She took her sweet time answering, leaving one arm around his waist while the other trailed upwards to cradle the opposite side of his neck, keeping it in place as she sank her teeth into him without warning. Red's jaw dropped with a gasp, and the cell filled with only the sound of his ragged, shallow breath. "It is," Liz replied between kisses, "among other things."

He made no reply, but Liz could almost hear the stream of ilicit possibilities running through his head. Further annoyed by the vest, she yanked his shirt free of his trousers, and slipped her hands beneath the fabric, combing her fingers through the course hairs of his lower belly before flattening both palms there.

He trembled, fighting against the urge to squirm, dying for her hands to lower. His voice a resonant growl, he implored, "Tell me about them."

Her fingertips just barely skimmed beneath his waistband, and Liz took a single step sideways, devoting some much-needed attention to the other side of his neck. Hot breath sweeping over his ear, she replied, "Wouldn't you rather figure it out for yourself?"

They really didn't have time for this. Luther could be hovering around the corner. Ressler and Navabi? God only knows what had happened to them. They could even be dead, for all she knew.

As if he could read her thoughts, Red groaned and said, "I meant it though, Lizzie. You really, really shouldn't be here. I didn't tell you about this for a reason."

Much to his disappointment, she retracted her hands, but they hovered over him as if they, too, were reluctant to move.

"But you could have been in real trouble. How was I to know that you had planned this?" Decision made, one hand descended to cup him through his trousers. She wasn't at all surprised to find him rock solid, but he was both hotter and thicker than she had expected.

Red's hips jerked forward, craving more. Much more. "Lizzie..." Words were not his friends at the moment.

"Hmmmm?" She took the liberty of adjusting his erection into a more comfortable position, and lightly dragged her fingertips up and down the length of it.

"Listen to me. We ARE in danger, Lizzie." The way he kept saying her name, more breath than voice, was driving her mad. "We have to find Braxton before he gets away." She increased the pressure of her fingertips. "God... Come here... Let me see you."

Now that-that, Liz could do. She ducked under his arm and finally faced him, eye to eye, and nose to nose. Many times in the past, she could have sworn that he was eye-fucking her. She knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she'd been correct in that assumption. Red wanted her now, no question, and though his expression was the same, his heated eyes glistened several shades darker.

She slipped her arms around him, shoving both hands into his back pockets with a squeeze, still maintaining an inch of space between them. Oh, that ass. How many times had she wanted to grab it? And his lips! Oh, his lips... They silently begged to be kissed, but Liz resisted, instead returning her attention to his neck.

"Lizzie, you have to unchain me," he whispered, but his hips jerked forward, going against his better judgement, in favor of what he really wanted.

She moaned into his ear at the contact, and couldn't help but use the convenient placement of her hands to pull him tightly against her. Hips grinding against each other through their torturous clothing, Liz fixated on the smallest of the scars that she had inflicted upon him. Licking, suckling, and biting, she drew the sensitive flesh into her mouth. Before long, she had effectively marked him yet again. "You're mine now," she hissed.

"I've always been yours," he replied, both husky and deep.

Just then, a light groan sounded from the corner of the room. "Shit!" Liz said, scrambling to find the right keys to uncuff Red's wrists.

Through gritted teeth, Red spat, "You should have killed him."

She paused to shoot daggers into his eyes. "If I had a dollar for every time you've said that to me, I wouldn't need this job to pay my bills."

One wrist freed, Red bent it forwards and backwards, stretching to relieve the shackle-induced discomfort. Desmond moaned again and lifted his head. "Lizzie, listen to me! I know how much you hate to relinquish control, but please, if you only follow my lead once today, make it RIGHT NOW."

"Okay, okay, sure." She agreed, fingers trembling as she finally freed him.

"Redd-reddi-reddington," Desmond choked out.

Red grabbed Liz's chin and forced her eyes to meet his. "Since our friend over there is still so unfortunately breathing, I'm going to use him to our best advantage, but first, I need you to leave, RIGHT NOW."

"I can't. The chopper left. It isn't due to circle back for at least another hour. There's nowhere for me to go. What are you going to do with him?"

"I meant leave this cell, and I'll explain later. No time, now. You have to use me as a ladder to climb up and into the vent." He crossed the room and unclipped the guard's walkie talkie. His brow furrowed as he turned the dial, searching for a specific chanel.

"As titilating as that sounds," Liz said, "it couldn't it be faster than using the door."

"You're right. It isn't, but it is safer." He paused to consult his memory of The Factory's layout. "When you climb up, go that way," he said, pointing. Keep going until you reach the third intersecting vent, and take a left. Go about halfway, until you find an opening to a cleared room. As long as it's clear, it doesn't matter which one." He grabbed one of her hands and deposited the walkie talkie into her palm. "Leave it on this channel. Our passcode will be ah.. hm.. how about 'submit'?"

"How appropriate."

"I'll get my hands on one as soon as I can. In the meantime, stay on alert mode. If you can't find a clear spot, stay in the vent until I come for you."

Liz smirked. "Nice double entendre."

Head canted, he chucked. "It wasn't meant to be, actually, but I do love the way you think." He took a deep breath and menacingly placed his palm on her throat. "And don't think for a second that you're off the hook for showing up here. Rest assured that we WILL be discussing it later."

Liz's eyes flashed as if she were accepting a challenge. "Very well."

He crouched down in front of her, and Liz's mind slipped back into the gutter. "Think you can get your feet squared on my shoulders?" Without pausing to wait for an answer, he went on, "Here, climb on and take my hands. I'll stand up slowly, and you can use them to keep your balance."

"Sure thing," she replied, and then did exactly as he'd asked. Still in a state of arousal, the display of his strength didn't pass unnoticed. It was all her fault anyway.

Liz's second journey through the vents was no more pleasant than the first. When she finally arrived at a cleared room, she dropped down and slowly side-stepped towards the door, slipping the mirror from her pocket in order to survey the hall. Before she could so much as lift it, a palm clamped over her mouth as she was roughly grabbed from behind and pushed all the way back into the room and up against the wall.

Her attempts to yell through the hand were almost comically ineffective. Her attacker leaned in and growled into her ear, "If you play your cards right, sweetheart, you may be able to come here after all."

Her knees buckled as she breathed into his palm, "Red!"


	2. Chapter 2

AN - Ready for some Factory smut? You'll find that Red is battling a bit of conflict, trapped between his need to have Lizzie and his need to keep her safe. It's pretty dialogue-heavy for an erotic chapter, and many of the details stray from canon in order to conform to my plot. The angst is very minimal, considering the situation, and the romantic sweetness was written extra-sweet in order to compensate. Spader lovers, I've included a few little Crash and Sex Lies &amp; Videotape easter eggs, just for fun. I hope you guys enjoy it. Thanks for reading and reviewing! *hugs*

I own nothing but the contents of my gutter-dwelling mind.

-...-...-...-

when our eyes met,

I couldn't look away.

my mouth opened to speak,

but there wasn't much to say.

I was frozen, transfixed by the way that you looked

when you grabbed me

and pulled me into a small nook

where we kissed like we had never tasted lips before,

and I still wanted more.

I still want more.

I'm frightened by what these words might bring,

but it's important for me to remember these things

[The Singer - Jump, Little Children]

This fic was very heavily influenced by that sweet, sultry song.

-...-...-...-

Nuzzling the shell of her ear, Red released his hold on her mouth and said, "Yes, Lizzie, it's me."

"That was fast. What did you do with the guard?"

He ignored her question, intent on sticking to his new, revised agenda after having the original so rudely, albeit hotly thwarted. "I'm more than happy to engage in a little bondage with you, Lizzie, among many, many other things, if we're lucky enough to make it out of here alive." He slipped one hand down to her waist, and with the other, he grabbed her scarred wrist and twisted it behind her back.

Pinned by Red's hands and hips, the intimate, firm contact made her sway, yet paradoxically held her steady. It seemed to Liz that they were going to have 'that discussion' already. She'd have preferred to finish what she'd started in his cell, minutes ago. "But there's just one thing you neglected to acquire first..."

"Um..."

"My consent," he growled, dragging out the 's' with a hiss.

"You seemed to like it."

"You knew that I would. That isn't the point." He tightened his grip on her wrist and twisted a little further. "You didn't uncuff me when I asked."

"Well, I didn't ASK you to do THIS."

"No, but if you tell me to stop, I'll stop. Should I?" He removed the hand from her belly and gently brushed her hair to one side, giving her a moment to respond, but she didn't. "That's what I thought." He grazed his lips up and down her neck, and his hand made its way back down her waist, slipping under her vest and shirt, eliciting faintest of whimpers.

She wiggled against him in a vain attempt to spur him on.

"After NOT killing Desmond, you neglected to disarm him. I wouldn't even expect a first-day Quantico student to forget that. What if he hadn't made those noises when he regained consciousness? He could have killed both of us before we even knew it was coming."

"Shit!" she groaned through gritted teeth. "You know I didn't.. I didn't plan on doing that, any of that."

"I know, but it's okay. I've found another use for him. Perhaps I should be flattered, and I am, to an extent... But in our respective jobs, being driven to distraction can be lethal." He unbuckled her belt and roughly yanked it through the loops.

"But screw the list. Screw the taskforce. If your head isn't there, it isn't worth the risk. None of it is worth losing you, but-"

"No, Red! We aren't done with this," she cut him off.

"Let. me. finish..." He replied, dragging out the words to convey more than one meaning. "But maybe, if I'm able to keep you satisfied, we won't have to worry about that problem... and I'm more than confident that I can do just that."

Liz took a deep breath and tried to urge him further. It wasn't fair, the things he was saying, and the way he was saying them. Who makes a lecture this erotic? "You aren't at all grateful that I came? You'd still be chained up in there if I hadn't. From where I'm standing, it looks like I've saved your life."

"You may have, but I wouldn't draw that conclusion until we've made it back home. And no... I'm not, because in doing so, you may have completely defeated the very purpose for which I've come here in the first place." The hand at her belly inched lower, dipping his fingers just below her waistband.

"I don't understand. Is death not the ultimate defeat of all purpose?"

Red unbuttoned her pants with a deft flick of his thumb, his lips pressed to her neck, humming. "I'm not being philosophical. In death, my mission may have failed. Had I not taken it at all, failure would be a certainty."

"And now?"

"Now, we're somewhere in-between." His hand lifted from her pants and loosened her vest just enough to slide his hand up her shirt, and his pinky traced along the underwire of her bra.

"Then shouldn't we be doing something else, something more 'mission-related'?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, and relinquished his grip on her wrist, lowering it to her side and massaging the precise location where her tricep vaguely ached. "And had you simply unshackled me, without all of the touching... oh." His train of thought was momentarily derailed as he discovered that her bra clasp was in the front. He unfastened it, and continued, "and teasing, and grinding," which he proceeded to do against her backside, an emphatic expression of his need, "then we would certainly be doing that 'something else'."

Liz tried to turn around to face him, but Red was quick to put a stop to it, using both his groin and a firm grip on her shoulders to keep her in place. "Red, I just want to look at you. I'm surprised... by your answer."

Both hands dropped from her shoulders and snaked beneath her shirt to graze only his thumbs along the ventral and lateral curvature of her breasts. "Surprised how? By my sexual interest in you? You must have had some preconceived awareness, to give in to that compulsion back there."

"It feels like a seismic shift in your priorities, this willingness to place sexual satisfaction over our lives."

"And especially yours, right?"

"I'm... I'm ashamed to admit it, but yes."

"Turn around, Lizzie." He cradled her face with both hands, stroking along her jaw with his thumbs. He rested his forehead against hers and gazed at her with a shockingly-piercing intensity. Vulnerability shined through the rheumy darkness of his eyes.

Liz whispered a reassurance he'd recently given to her. "When you love someone, you have no control. That's what love is."

"Are you now theorizing that I'm the one who can't control my sexual urges, because I love you?"

Liz's jaw dropped. "I thought... I, when you..."

He remained silent, patiently awaiting a more coherent string of words.

"I thought that you were talking about Tom, when you said that, but I.. I hoped that you meant..." She closed her eyes and sighed. "Yourself."

"Yes," he whispered, almost inaudibly, brushing his nose over hers.

As faint as his admission was, it gave her just enough confidence to offer an explanation. "But you're wrong. I wasn't theorizing about sex, or anything else, actually. I was explaining... why I had to come here."

Red sucked in a deep breath, the exhale escaping as a strangled "Oh." She reached for the back of his head with both hands and pulled him in for the long-awaited meeting of their lips. His body drew taught, frozen in place and trembling. Three long seconds passed before he snapped into action and responded in kind, and a jolt of electricity shot through them both- twin, full-bodied explosions that could be fairly likened to an orgasm, one they had each awaited after more than a year of emotional foreplay.

"If you had been forming such a theory, you wouldn't have been entirely wrong," Red admitted.

For perhaps the first time ever, Liz didn't push him for more, but she waited for it, hoped for it-implored him with soft eyes until he continued, "At first, I had every intention of taking you roughly and quickly here, just now, just in case we didn't... we didn't make it."

She nuzzled the underside of his jaw. "Still alive so far."

"So far... But if these should be our final moments together, then they should also be more than the sum of our simultaneously-firing synapses. I shouldn't be angry with you during our possible first and last time. You need to know where that self-defeating, antithetical anger came from, as well. What you've seen is the surface, and what lurks beneath it might be enough to make you change your mind."

"No, it won't. I want more, too."

"That brings us to Luther Braxton." Red's lips formed the sad smile of a man who has finally accepted a grim fate.

She blinked, jaw slackened, and her eyes grew wide with frustrated, helpless confusion. He could usually derive some degree of amusement from that look. Hell, sometimes he even triggered the expression intentionally, but not now. Now, he made an effort to offer up the most pertinent information with haste. "I thought we were talking about us," Liz replied, her voice thick with disappointment.

"We are."

"Okay," she sighed, accepting, but her shoulders remained slumped everso slightly.

"My mission is to thwart his mission, and his mission is to acquire an item called The Fulcrum. Think of it as an extortionist's wet dream, nestled at the heart of the world's most powerful cabal. By virtue of having the dirt on everyone, The Fulcrum imbues upon its keeper the ability to manipulate many of the world's biggest leaders. For that, one could fairly argue that said keeper wields more power than anyone else in the world. Braxton thinks that the codes he's getting here will lead him to it, but they won't. Instead, they'll eventually lead him to the very last place I would ever want him to go, and he'll have to get through that obstacle in order to get to The Fulcrum."

"What's so important about this 'obstacle'? To you, I mean. Why is it the last place you'd want him to go? And what does that have to do with US?"

He took both of her hands and held them within his own. "It's about us because the obstacle isn't a place or a thing. It's you. He can't get it without you. Once he's realizes that, it makes no difference whether or not he succeeds, because if it isn't him, it will just be someone else. More will come, and they'll keep coming until there's nothing left to come for."

"Without me? Why me?"

"Your father." He dropped her hands and rested his on her hips.

"I'm sure you feel that you've just explained something, but you haven't."

No. Actually, he didn't. Red offered an apologetic, knowing smile. "The Fulcrum was there, the night of the fire, but it was never recovered from the ashes, and only two people survived that night."

"Me?" Liz asked, her voice small. Her bottom lip quivered.

"Yes."

"Who else?"

"Me."

"So then... once they find out about me, they'll think that I have it? Is that why you can't tell me who my father is?"

He nodded solemnly.

"But I don't have it, and why now, anyways, after 26 years? It's because of you, isn't it?"

"Not exactly. Have you ever tried to prove a negative? Do you think they'll believe you? They won't, so I can't let them get close enough to ask."

"Is this the part where you tell me a parable that I'll spend the rest of the day trying to decipher? Or maybe a story about a misadventure on a subequatorial island?"

Red's chin lifted slightly, eyes flashing. It wasn't a good moment to not be taken seriously.

"Oh, I know! An art story, right? Have you recently acquired a stolen Andy Warhol piece? This is The Factory, after all. Tell me it's a red Liz. You know, Elizabeth Taylor, painted in red?"

"This isn't Andy Warhol's Factory. We're getting further and further from the point. Alan Fitch's death triggered the sequence of events that brought us here."

"CIA Fitch? The Decembrist?"

"I lead him to believe that I've had it all this time, to protect both of us. More than once, it was the only thing keeping me alive. They feared that it could end up in the wrong hands. Fitch's successor is less trusting and more power-grubbing. He hired Braxton to steal it."

"But what about you? Do you not want it?"

"I want you."

"But this thing.. It's the reason you came into my life? This is why you're here. You killed my parents for this... object?"

"It's not that simple."

"It never is, Red. If you're lying, I can't..."

Again, he gently held her face with both hands, directing her eyes to meet his, but not just to look at them. He let her look all the way into them, and through them. In the absence of proof, it was all he could do. He needed her to believe him. "Now, back to us. I thought you should know the truth before we take the next step here, physically. I can't prove anything to you right now, but I'm hoping that I can make you feel it."

Liz quickly closed the gap between them, quite certain of what she wanted to feel first, and found that he needed little encouragement to go on. "Just promise me that when this is over," he said, "you'll let me give you a better representation of those feelings."

Her lips set into a smile, and she nodded once.

"Good. You'll be happy to hear that Desmond took the bribe. He's keeping watch for us, along with three others. Braxton's chopper is on the way, but it's ETA is still thirty minutes out." He grabbed her by the hips and lifted her off the ground, pressing her to the wall again with a groan when she wrapped her legs around his waist, just as he had hoped she would. "We'll just have to be outside and waiting for his exit."

Liz let die the pieces of herself that still doubted him. "You're all I have, you know," she whispered, her lips brushing over his with the admission.

"Is it enough?" He asked, and quickly took her lips with his before she could answer. Even with teeth clashing, tongues fighting for entry into the other's mouth, Red was still uncertain about what she would say, and it frightened him how badly he wanted her. What little control he had over himself died when she moaned the word, "yes," into his mouth, accompanied by a full breath of air that filled his lungs.

She, his queen, his Helen of Troy, with the face that launched a thousand ships.

She, his Undine, who could unknowingly sing him into drowning in the sea.

All of Raymond Reddington's kingdom, not for a horse, but instead for Elizabeth Keen.

Against their better judgement, both their clothes and vests were haphazardly stripped and discarded. Red pushed Liz back against the wall once more, and slowly kneeled down in front of her, hands stroking along her hips and down the backs of her legs. He paused for a moment to gaze up at her from the all-too familiar position, gently coaxing her thighs to part. Starting at her knees, he kissed his way up, probably taking it more slowly than he should have. The anticipation made her taste even better than Red had imagined, and he wasn't shy about telling her so. "I couldn't tell you how many hours I've spent trying to imagine how you taste, and you're absolutely divine, Lizzie. Heavenly. My imagination has come up woefully lacking."

His tongue slipped over her folds several times in a row, just barely stopping short of her clit, coaxing a needy moan from her throat. Were he not already in the position, that sound alone would have brought him to his knees. With his tongue plunging in, Liz's readiness was apparent, and when she cried out his name, Red found himself lost and overwhelmed by the sudden need to press in deeper and hear it again. He used the resonant depth of his voice to their mutual advantage. "Here, put your leg over my shoulder. I'll help you with the other one."

He needn't ask twice. Liz grabbed his hands for balance as he leaned forward a bit, simplifying the transition. With the first leg in place, she had no trouble mirroring it with the second.

With her fingers threading through his hair, Liz struggled to keep from pressing his head down harder. Putting her on his shoulders gave him a much better range of motion, and Red's skilled mouth and hands made use of it all. While his fingers worked inside of her with gusto, he carefully studied Liz's expression, searching. Still avoiding her clit, he was certain that he'd recognize the exact location of her g-spot.

"Have you ever wondered what you look like while having an orgasm?"

A gasp of breath every couple of words, she replied, "No.. But that. Sounds. Familiar. Isn't it from. A. Movie?"

"It is, and I have. In fact, I think I've wondered enough for both of us. No more wondering, now. Show me."

Within seconds, her closed eyes popped open, along with her mouth. There. Right there. He increased the pressure and finally showed mercy with his mouth, exactly where she most desperately needed it. As Liz fell apart, her eyes briefly rolled back before she could force herself to meet his hungry gaze.

With his mouth still buried between her legs, Red exalted, "Beautiful. I could spend an entire lifetime making you come, over and over and over again."

Liz's head lolled to the side as she replied, "God, Red... be my guest. You won't hear me complain."

"No, you be mine." He offered his arms to steady her as one at a time, her wobbly legs returned to the floor. In hopes of returning the favor, Liz attemped to slide down the wall, but Red's lightning-fast reflexes put a stop to that, his hands plunging through her underarms before she could sink any lower. "Oh no. Not now. Maybe the next one darling, hm?"

Liz wasn't so easily defeated, and she also wasn't above calling his stamina into question, even if only in jest. "What's the matter? Not sure if you'll be able to last?" She hitched one leg up and around his waist and took him into her hand, discreetly attempting to gauge his length and girth, both of which she found intimidating and enticing. Lips fastened to his, she swallowed his pleading moans, gently stroking and driving him mad. "Just for a few seconds, please?"

Eyes squeezed shut, he nodded. "Okay. A few seconds, then."

Many times, she had wondered what she might do in such a situation. Would she kiss it, or suck it right away? Which hand would she hold it in? In the moment however, Liz wasted no time on those decisions. She dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth immediately. Tongue darting in opposition to her lips, she drew out the slightest bit of precum. It was salty, but not excessively so. His palms pressed to the cool, concrete wall, Red could barely stay upright. She had Raymond Reddington, the fearsome concierge of crime, at her mercy. Lips wrapped around him, Liz hummed her delight in the situation and gazed upwards just in time to see his eyelids flutter and close. She thrilled at the power and reveled in his ragged breath. Oh, to think he wanted to deny her this pleasure!

Perhaps it was he who was too easily distracted, Liz thought, as two full minutes ticked by. She swallowed each time he hit the back of her throat, barely quelling her gag reflex, both hands kneading his ass and thighs. She stood abruptly when his knees began to tremble, and smirked at the sound of his erection slapping against his lower belly. Her back to the wall, Liz met his eyes and said, "More." She gripped his shoulders and jumped up to wrap her legs around his waist.

Red growled and lifted her higher, aligning himself for entry. He battled the urge to just plow forward, teasing instead by going in a single inch, only to lift her higher and slip out again. After the third time, Liz wrapped her fingers around his throat and squeezed, unwilling to be denied for another second. She maintained her grip until Red bent to her will and buried himself inside of her completely. His hands hooked under her thighs, he leaned in, pressing their chests together. The low moan escaping his lips shot straight to her core, and he held her still, rigid from head to toe, waiting while she stretched to relax around him.

With some amusement, Liz counted the seconds until he worried that he might be hurting her, as she clamped around him intentionally. Seven. His lips tracked along her jaw as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Are you okay? Am I hurting you?" he asked.

In truth, it did hurt, but only a little. It was a sweet, delightful sort of pain. Satisfying. Fulfilling. Purposed. And his Lizzie laughed. She LAUGHED. Hands grazing over the back of his head and directing his lips to hers, the most musical and joyful sound that he couldn't help mirroring and swallowing it as he lifted her higher, slipping out slowly and then slamming back in. His perfectly focused and intense pace gradually crescendoed.

Hot breaths came rapid.

Moans deep and unchecked.

Hips rushing forward and then back again.

Tasked with holding her up, Red's hands had little freedom, but Liz made up for it with gusto, touching him everywhere that she could reach, but most especially his back. She'd never seen his back before. Still hadn't, really. The room was too dark. And maybe, she thought, maybe his scars were the reason that he had wanted to talk first. She knew what they were- knew without asking, and she loved them. She loved HIM.

"Harder, Raymond," she breathed, jaw dropping as he complied without hesitation. She was close, so close.

"Lizzie, look at me." His forehead rested on hers, his eyes penetrating as deeply as his cock. He grabbed her hips and lifted her higher, changing the angle and increasing the pressure. He felt her body tense, quivering. He relished in her shuddering breath.

"Harder! Oh my god."

It was his own throbbing orgasm that pushed her over the edge, clenching around him and shaking, drawing from him every last drop, until his hands let go to brace himself against the wall, and she reluctantly loosened the grip of her thighs and buried her face into the crook of his neck, feet sliding to the cool concrete floor.

"I think you're gonna have to carry me out of here," Liz said, sighing heavily and still trembling.

"Alright. Just climb on my back. Stay naked, if you'd like, but you'll have to carry two guns. As hot as the mental image is, please don't get too creative with the storage, and make sure the safety is on." He shot her a sly grin and pulled up his boxers, breaking into laughter at her half-hearted attempt to scowl.

Upon wondering about the time, immediate panic rushed over Liz. "What time is it? We really need to hurry, don't we?"

Red checked his watch. "Braxton's chopper is less than five minutes out. Yes, please hurry."

After a lightning-fast redonning of their clothes, Red pulled Liz into a tight embrace- the kind that expresses feelings for which he had no adequate words. Still, he tried. "Lizzie, I love you so much. Are you ready for this?"

Ready for his love, or ready to take on Braxton? Instead of asking Red to clarify, she simply gave him the answer, as it applied to both. "I love you too, Red, and yes, I'm ready. Let's do this!"

Exiting the room, Red was happy to see not only Desmond, but Samar and Ressler standing in the hall, waiting for them. Flushing beet-red, Liz was grateful for the dim lighting. Oh, they knew. They definitely knew. Ressler was pissed, glaring hotly at Red, while Samar simply offered Liz a sly, knowing smile. Later on, she knew that she would ruminate over the possible implications of Samar's expression. No time for that now.

Red ignored Ressler and brightly greeted the guard, "Have you decided what you'll do with that fifty grand?"

"Well, I-"

Desmond's reply was cut short by a sudden explosion. Just before he lost consciousness, Red's final thought was an awareness of Lizzie's body beneath him, shielded by his own.

Hopefully, it would be enough.

He still wanted more.


	3. Chapter 3

AN/Disclaimer: In this chapter, Red's life hangs in the balance while the FBI and friends try to escape from The Factory. Liz and Ressler have a serious heart-to-heart about how Liz's newfound romance will affect their partnership, and especially the risks that Ressler will have to take in order to keep mum for them. Liz comes up with a clever plan that just might make everyone happy.

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate all reviews. There will be at least one more chapter after this one.

Sadly, I still own nothing. Also, I can't promise that you won't find any factually incorrect triage details. Please kindly forgive me/suspend disbelief/overlook. Hey, the show gets away with it, right?

-...-...-

Stunned and covered in debris, it took several seconds for Liz to process what had just occurred. She could hear little over the incessant, shrill ringing in her ears. A cloud of unsettled particulates hung heavily in the air. Acting on instinct, she hoarsely shouted for her team. Navabi and Ressler groaned and sputtered, but the one voice that she most needed to hear was silent. As Liz extricated herself from the debris, her palm grazed over the unmistakable softness of Red's closely-shorn hair. His body lay limp and unresponsive as she crawled out from under him. "RED!"

Kneeling at his side, Liz shouted and slapped his face. "WAKE UP, RED! COME ON! Two fingers pressed over his carotid showed a weak, thready pulse, and he wasn't breathing. "BREATHE, GODDAMNIT!" She opened his mouth and tilted his head back, hoping that his neck wasn't broken. A macabre thought struck her suddenly. After waiting so long to advance their relationship, and having finally taken that step, this COULD NOT be the last time that their lips touched. Panic prevented her from appreciating the irony of checking his pulse in the exact spot where she'd once stabbed him.

Ressler's hand on her shoulder made her jump. "Keen, come on, we have to get out of here!"

"Not without Red!" She sealed his lips and breathed into his lungs again.

Samar clambered to her feet and cried out in pain. "I think my shoulder is dislocated. Damnit!"

"Okay, hang on. This is gonna hurt, but I can reset it," Ressler offered.

"BREATHE, YOU BASTARD!" Tears began to stream freely down Liz's cheeks.

"What the hell?" Desmond's voice sounded through the chaos.

"Okay, on the count of three," Ressler braced. "One, two,-" A sickening pop sounded.

Taken by surprise, Samar screamed. "YOU SAID ON THREE."

"Did I?"

Liz's pleas went up in pitch, but lowered in volume. "Please, Red! You're all I have. I need you! This doesn't end here."

"Keen, we need to get out of here, now!"

She gave Red another breath before replying, "Then help me carry him!"

"I'll help," Desmond quickly offered, already standing at her side.

She gave Red one last breath and glanced up to see Ressler standing on the other side of him. "No! I've got him."

"No way. I'm stronger. Besides, that gash behind your ear is bleeding profusely. You probably have a concussion."

"Huh?" Previously unaware of the injury, Liz lifted her hand to locate it. He was right. "I'm fine! I'm doing it."

Recognizing the look that she'd just given him in the chopper, Ressler scowled and relented. "Whatever."

Desmond and Liz hooked their arms beneath Red's and hoisted him up, dragging his limp form between them. The airborne particulates were beginning to settle, but visbility had hardly improved. As they stumbled down the hall, Liz realized that she was so disoriented that she had no idea where they were. Without Desmond, she wouldn't have known which way to go.

Arriving at the exit, they found that the door frame had warped in the explosion, jamming it shut. Desmond helped Liz lower Red back down to the floor, where she resumed her efforts to rouse him. Navabi and Ressler put their collective efforts into forcing the door open. Between breaths, Liz began to worry about Braxton's whereabouts. Did he die in the explosion? For all she knew, it could have been a part of his escape plan. She'd expected to find him outside and waiting for his chopper, but it had definitely been more than five minutes since Red had given her that ETA. Braxton may have left already.

With a terrible screech, the door finally opened, and Ressler addressed Desmond, "You good on ammo?"

"Gun's loaded, but more would be better. We haven't run into any prisoners, so I'm guessing the survivors went the other way and escaped through the main exit. We'll be running into them when we get out there."

Well, Liz thought, that explains why she had felt so lost. They weren't going out the same way that she'd gone in.

"You all have an armory, or somewhere that you could get more ammo?" Ressler asked.

The guard ruefully shook his head while taking a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew that he had to do. "Yes, but getting there won't be easy."

"Nothing ever is," Liz chimed in, glancing up at him with red-rimmed, glassy eyes.

Navabi offered, "I'll go with him." She turned towards Ressler. "Stay here. Keen's practically a sitting duck."

On any other day, that remark would have pissed Liz off, but in the present, it barely even registered. "Here, Des, this belongs to you." She unclipped the walkie-talkie from her belt. "Let us know when you get there, and call for help if you need it."

"Ressler, catch." She tossed him Red's walkie-talkie. It was a miracle that it didn't get lost in either the explosion or the exit.

"Ready?" Samar asked. Desmond nodded.

Ressler's brow furrowed with worry. "Be careful, guys."

As soon as they were out of earshot, he started to rail against Liz. "I hope it doesn't come across as insensitive for me to bring this up now," he began.

"I'm sure," Liz replied curtly, checking Red's pulse again. Still thready, but still there.

"But you're currently too busy to stop me from talking before I finish, and I'm taking the opportunity as presented."

"Uh huh," she replied, already annoyed.

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea, so first I'd like to say, for the record, if you weren't already providing triage for Reddington, I'd jump in to do the same. I don't want to lose him, either."

"I know that. Did you think I'd forgotten about the Post Office breach?"

"No, but I'm speaking as your partner here. I accept that every now and then, we'll have to break a few rules in order to cover each other's asses, and not just in the field, but also in a much broader sense. At the risk of ruining our careers, we even keep secrets from Cooper and everyone else. That requires a lot of trust, and I do trust you, Keen."

Liz sighed. He was only getting started on the lecture.

"I think I've been more than fair with you about this. I've covered your ass at least as many times as I've covered my own. Keeping your 'ex-husband hostage situation' to myself has been especially risky. You acknowledged that it's way more than you should ask of me, and you said that you were grateful. You were done. You weren't going to ask me to do anything like that ever again."

"Right."

"And now you are! Already! I don't appreciate you taking advantage of me like this. From a moral perspective, I really don't care who you're involved with, and that includes Reddington. If you can live with who he is and what he does for the taskforce that has LITERALLY been built around him, then fine. I don't have a problem with you sleeping with our biggest asset."

"But..."

"BUT! You've crossed the line of partner privilege. Holding your husband hostage was a one-time thing. I made a couple excuses for you, at the time, but now he's gone. It's beyond my comfort level, but it's over and it's done."

"Look Ressler, I'm so-"

He cut her off. "Let me finish! You and Reddington... this will be ongoing, and who knows how long? It could be forever. Actually, having witnessed the extent of his devotion to you, I suspect that it will be. So, now what? You expect me to cover for you in perpetuity? I WILL lose my job over it. I can see that it's worth the risk for you. If you get fired, you'll still have him. If I lose my job, I'll have NOTHING. My job IS my life, and you're being SELFISH. You KNOW that it's all I have, and you DON'T EVEN CARE."

"Listen Ress-" She tried again.

"EVENTUALLY, YOU WILL GET CAUGHT. It could be next week, or maybe even a year or more from now, but it's inevitable. They'll KNOW that I've known, Keen! One by one, the little lies that I've told will be lifted like fingerprints, and they'll be used to nail my ass to the wall." He paused for a long moment, running his hand over his scalp. Liz wasn't sure if he was done yet, so she stayed silent this time, waiting.

"Now, you'll probably say that you and Reddington can cover your own tracks, but I doubt that you've accounted for one very critical factor."

Another pause. Goddamnit, just say it already!

"EVERYONE IS ALREADY SUSPICIOUS! Navabi is THE ONLY taskforce member who hasn't asked me if your relationship is romantic. That devotion that I was talking about earlier? EVERYONE can see it."

"You never told me," Liz quietly replied.

"Oh, like you don't already see it? You needed me to say, 'Hey, Keen, have you ever noticed how Reddington sticks his neck out for you?' Did YOU think that I had forgotten about the Post Office breach? He knew that Garrick intended to torture and kill him, but with a gun to your head, Reddington didn't give a fuck about that. HE was an afterthought to himself! After saving my life, he would have killed me, right in front of everyone, just to get out of the box so that he could go die for you."

"I know. I meant that you didn't tell me about everyone asking about Red and I."

"You didn't expect that?" He spat.

"Of course I knew that everyone has wondered about our mysterious connection, but the fact is that I'm just now figuring that out, myself. I didn't expect everyone to make such a baseless assumption, and especially in the beginning, while I was still married."

"They didn't. Not back then, anyway. The assumptions about a romantic involvement came later, and they're completely separate from the original connection that brought him here. We're all still very curious about that too, by the way."

"Which brings me back to my question. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to protect you."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before," Liz scoffed.

"I'm not being trite. You have enough on your plate, and you're spinning too many of them as well. The higher-ups are already breathing down your neck because of Tom. How would it help to make you worry about them asking me if you're with Red? You'd just end up distancing yourself from him, and it's the worst possible time for that, whether or not you'd like to admit it. I'm only telling you now so that you know how careful you'll have to be. You can't be as cavalier as Reddington."

"Does that mean you won't be telling Cooper?"

"I don't know. I need time to think about it. Maybe I'll request a transfer to another taskforce instead. You've cornered me into a really fucked up situation, Keen. You didn't have to flaunt it in front of me. You could have at least tried to keep me in the dark for awhile. A little plausible deniability would have been courteous."

Liz knew what he meant, but she was mad as hell that he'd choosen to bring it up while the man wasn't even breathing on his own. "What makes you think that I didn't?"

"Are you serious?"

"Well, I can't really answer that without stealing another chunk of your plausible deniability, can I?"

The walkie-talkie buzzed to life with static, and Desmond's voice sounded through it, "Gunned down a few prisoners that were trying to gain access to the armory, but we're fine. Heading back now."

"Copy that. Good work, guys," Ressler replied, and then turned his attention back towards Liz. "Okay, whatever. I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, assuming that it was new."

"You do realize that I wasn't aware that you guys were standing out there and waiting for us, right? I wasn't trying to FLAUNT anything." She said.

"So, for all you knew, we could have been in troubIe, but you chose to screw Reddington instead of trying to help us?"

Oh shit. Shitshitshit! "Well," Liz began, trying to think fast.

Red sputtered, his lips opening and closing as his lungs feebly started to work on their own.

"YES! RED! COME ON!" Liz took the biggest breath that she possibly could, and hastily blew it into his lungs. With his exhale looking a little too weak, she immediately did it again, just in case. "BREATHE, RED. YOU CAN DO IT!"

Finally, he did.

"Oh thank god!" Both agents exalted in unison. Ressler squeezed Liz's shoulder, and she glanced up at him as they exchanged tight-lipped smiles of relief.

Still, they weren't out of the woods just yet. "Red, please wake up!" she pleaded.

The agents stared at him, carefully studying every feature, desperate for even the slightest sign that he was regaining consciousness. After a long moment of strained silence, feeling guilty, Liz attempted to smooth things over with her partner.

"I'm sorry for doing this to you, Ress, and I know that 'sorry' isn't good enough," she began. "You have every right to be angry. I've handled this poorly. Closeness, and playing well with others is something that I... I don't know. I'm not very good at it."

"You think? You gave us that disclaimer on day one."

"But I didn't even know the full extent of it. I mean, back then, at least I thought that I had a loving husband. I didn't know that the one person I've consistently trusted for my entire life was best friends with a most-wanted criminal."

"Is that supposed to be an excuse?"

"Well no, but just the same, it has rattled me. I already had a pretty bad temper, but back then, whenever it got the better of me, I was always fully aware of it. Now... Now, I have to work so hard at just EXISTING. I focus so much on being strong and moving forward that I treat everyone around me like crap. Most of the time, I don't even notice. It is selfish."

"Well believe me, I notice," Ressler replied, but the edge in his voice had softened.

"I'm sorry for putting you through it. You've been a great partner and friend." She lightly ran her fingers over Red's scalp, hoping that he could somehow feel it.

"Thanks. I know what you mean though, about how hard it is to move forward after losing it all. Believe it or not, it really helped to know that you believed in me enough to not go to Cooper about the pills. You were at risk there too."

Tentatively, she replied, "Since we're being honest... I didn't exactly believe that you could do it. I wasn't really sure, but I was hopeful. What I believed was that you deserved a chance."

"Eh." He shrugged. "I'll take that."

"About your job being on the line though... I think Red might be able to help."

"Hmph."

"During all of those years that you chased him around, there's a reason that he was so effectively elusive. It's the same reason that he gets away with breaking so many laws, even while we knowingly watch him do it."

"His charisma?" Her partner replied sarcastically.

"That too, but I'm talking about him knowing the right people."

"Go on."

"He knows their most deplorable, heavily-guarded secrets, and he's not afraid to use them to his best advantage. The manipulated parties quietly bend to his will, leaving everyone below them none the wiser."

"You're saying that he's some kind of puppet master? I already knew that." Ressler frowned.

"No, you think that since he came forward, the only strings that he's pulling are the ones that you've seen. There's a lot more, and they're much longer than you know. That's what I meant about everyone being none the wiser. To be honest, I include myself among them."

Incredulous, Ressler shook his head. "You're saying that Reddington can blackmail Cooper into letting me keep my job after he finds out about you guys? Do you really expect that to work?"

"Not just Cooper, but those who outrank him as well. Actually, Red already has a go-to incident to lord over him, and he's used it more than once."

"Huh... I guess that might explain some of Cooper's more questionable decisions... Listen, if it works, I'm not saying that I'd be ungrateful, but I'll believe it when I see it."

Several dots simultaneously linked inside of Liz's head. Oh, this is just too perfect! "You still don't know why Red is here, do you?"

"I know about Braxton."

"But you don't know why Red wants him so badly. You don't know why he went through all the trouble of being arrested and sent here..."

"So tell me."

"Braxton's trying to get The Fulcrum," she replied, secretly delighting in her partner's confusion as he glared at her impatiently.

"Go on."

"It's the definitive dirt dictionary for an enormous cabal." Liz paused, eyes widened. "Oooo! I like that alliteration!"

"You're picking up Reddington's most annoying habits, you know."

Liz ignored the comment and continued, "The person who holds The Fulcrum therefore has the power to make even the fattest of heads roll and crumble. In effect, they become the most influential 'puppet master' in the world. Red's gonna stop him and take The Fulcrum for himself."

Suddenly, it occured to her that Red had never actually said anything about wanting to find it for himself, just that he didn't want Braxton to know about her. He probably did want it though. Why wouldn't he? Cautiously, Liz left out her own involvement in the matter, still uncertain of exactly what it entailed. Whatever it was, Red wouldn't want Ressler to know.

"Braxton must have gotten away already. He probably blew up the place on his way out the door. Even if The Philtrum could have assisted in this situation, it's gone now."

"Fulcrum. The 'philtrum' is that little groove between your upper lip and nose. Anyway, I wouldn't write this off as a failure just yet. One way or another, Red's getting it."

A barely-audible voice croaked from the floor, "Have a little faith, Donald. I always get what I want."

-...-...-...-

AN - If you would like more, this story continues in a sequel- Lizzie Lazarus.


End file.
